Here is Home Ground

We are
home ground.
A piece of earth
rich with
every mineral,
with water,
and air.
We are the place
where I need to sit,
with every inch
of my skin.
Where fibered
roots reach
deep,tendriled,
complex,
holding firm
within a matrix
of dark soil
that will not shift
in fear.
We are a riot of
woody weeds,
the strong things
of the ground,
that do not break.
We are spiraled infant ferns,
tender, enchanted,
flawless and rare.
We lay low,
perfect,
wrapped from the reach
of every blast
that would rip us
from our home place.
There we breathe,
joined,
in kisses
and soft muddy words.